The Child
by coolb92
Summary: A series of one shots during with my ongoing Sherlock Holmes story following everyone's thoughts around my OC Cassandra during her life growing up being the ward of the Great Detective. T to be safe and later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This is a little series of oneshots I made going with my Sherlock Holmes story "The Hidden Child Adventures" the story itself will be uploaded soon. The oneshots will help me as it write the story so they may not go in order of the story. So it will contain some spoilers, but I will make sure to warn you before hand. If Holmes is a little OC, please let me know.**

**Anyway, I only own Cassandra, Everything else is Doyle's. Reviews are always welcome, flames will just be used to heat 221b at night.**

The first time Sherlock Holmes realized his life had changed was when he found a small sick baby outside his flat. He had sent for a doctor and was told the child would be weak for the rest of her life. He knew no one would want such a sickly little child. He remembered what the doctor told him as he gathered his things, the girl would be lucky if she lived through the night.

He could not help, but look at the blight green eyes of the baby as she looked at him. He knew it was foolish for him to believe she would be all right, but a part of him wanted the child to live. The child was pale, her forehead was hot to the touch. She was small, but not too tiny, he was able to place her at about one year of age if not nearly two.

"I could give you something for the child if she becomes too feverish. It will not hurt her it will let her go peaceful." The doctor said.

Sherlock Holmes looked from the child to the doctor with a glare. "No, that will not be needed." He paid the man and closed the door.

The baby let out a small wail and he picked her up and gently wiped her face with a wet cool cloth. She glared at him and tried to wriggle away causing him to chuckle softly. "What an odd child you are. Now it is only you help you keep cool and it will help. Stay still."

She stopped and held still for him, though she kept her small pout. When he finished bathing her, he sat in his chair with the child still tucked safely in his arms and settled for a long night. She snuggled against his breast and let out a tired sigh. He could only watch her with interest as she drifted to sleep.

When the he woke, he was startled when he could not find the child in the basket he had placed her in next to him. He thought the worst had happened and the maid must have taken the small body away when he heard a squall of delight. He jumped from his chair and looked behind it, finding the baby sitting up holding his magnify glass. She was looking through it with a sense of wonderment on her face.

It was then that Sherlock Holmes knew that while he could not fix the child's health, he would see she would be cared for. He would take care of her. He did not know how to do it, but he could not give her away. He was reminded of what his mother told him then his sister was born. She told him that the most important thing any child needed was love and protection. While he doubted he could give the child love, he knew he would always protect and care for her.

The child broke his thoughts when she let out giggles and he bent down, picking her up. She smiled when she saw him and laughed reaching her hands out, touching his face. He felt her forehead, feeling no fever as he did yesterday. When he moved his hand away, the girl grabbed his hand and stared at it intently.

She ran her hands over his palm, frowning in thought as she tried figure out what it meant. Sherlock Holmes chuckled and held her close to him.

"Cleaver little thing, you are. Almost like my grandmother Cassandra. You do not have a name do you? Well I will call you, Cassandra."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Something we all went through when we were little, fear. Sherlock Holmes must try to solve this one. I own own Cassandra as always, Holmes belongs to Doyle. Reviews are always welcomes, flames, not so much.**

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><p>The first time Sherlock Holmes wondered if he was doing the right thing was the night he came home during a thunder storm. He had walked into the tiny flat only to find his young child companion was no where in his sight as she usually was when he returned. He took off his hat and coat and draped them over a chair as he walked to the bedroom. There he found a rather large bundle of blankets with a pair of green eyes and a petite noise peeking out.<p>

"Holmes!" The bundle let out a cry as it moved and a small three year old girl ran to him.

He knelt down and caught the child, allowing her to bury her face in his chest. She let out a small whimper as thunder rolled and nuzzled against him. Sherlock Holmes wrapped his arms around her, gently.

"What is all of this then?" He asked fearing the worse. He looked down and saw no sign she was hurt. "What is the matter?"

"Scared." Came the muffed response.

"Cass, I cannot understand you when you are buried."

The little girl pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I'm scared, Holmes." She said her lip quivering.

"What is it that frightens you so?" He asked softly.

"The noise." she sniffed. "It's scary. It frightens me."

"It's only a storm, child. There is nothing to be afraid of."

Another clash of thunder and lightening lighting the room, only caused the child to wrap her arms around his legs. She began to sob and a loud knock hit the door.

"Mister Holmes, keep that child quiet!" Mrs. Frost the landlady shouted.

Sherlock Holmes sighed as he lifted young Cassandra into his arms and walked her to the sitting room. He sat them both by the fire and the little girl laid her head on his shoulder as she cried quietly. He stared at her and thought, trying to think of a reason for her actions.

He knew it was not because he was out late since that happens often. But, what is it that is triggering this sudden fear in her? True this was one of the worst storms in a while, but surely it really was not what frightened her? Wait...the last time a storm happened he remembered she could not sleep and was in tears. So there it was, she feared storms, but he could not understand why.

Unless, it may due to the fact she was left out in one when he find her. It sounded impossible even to him, but he knew it must be the truth. It was probable. He looked down at the girl curled against him, desperately seeking comfort from him. Knowing he could not ignore her, not in this state, never when she needed him, he pulled her to him.

"It's all right now." He said gently. "Nothing will harm you, child."

"Promise?" Cassandra asked in her childish voice. The voice that made him question himself if he was doing the right thing.

He lightly stroked the top of her curly chestnut hair. "I promise, child."

When more thunder rolled, the little girl jumped in freight. He stared at her for a another moment, before he had an idea. He pulled the child away from him and fetched his violin. When he returned he found Cassandra sitting in the chair staring at him. He played a short tune, watching as the girl's body relaxed and soon fell asleep. Placing the violin down he walked to the sleeping child and scooped her into his arms.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he took her to the bedroom. He tucked her in her pile of blankets and watched her as she slept. He did not know if he helped her the right way, but he knew that he would not leave her with her fears. Sherlock Holmes would not leave the child to fight on her own, he would be there along the way. He was not certain if this was what a parent did, but to him it was right, it even seemed to be almost logical.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Cassandra leans that not even Holmes is perfect. I only own Cassandra, everyone else belongs to Doyle. Please click the review button! **

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><p>The first time she had caught him with the syringe she had only just turned five. He thought he was alone and had just finished work for a very impudent client who turned out be a blackmailer trying to trick him into getting his help. When the rush of the case had ended, he was only filled with dread due to the quick boredom. The child was out with her friend Jess for the day at her house, she was supposed to be there. He did not expect her home until later.<p>

He did not react quick enough to hide it when he heard her open the door. "Holmes?" She asked shocked as she stared at the needle.

He jumped and shoved the syringe back in it's case and in the desk drawer. "I thought you were gone for the day." He said locking it away quickly.

He did not understand the panic growing inside of him, she was only a child. Surely she would only brush it away and something else will catch her attention. But, he knew she was not a normal child who would have dismissed it quickly. She never would be a normal child.

"Jess' father returned. Wiggins thought it was best if I came back, he walked me home." She took a step foreword. "Holmes, what are you doing? Why…" She stopped and took a deep breath, gaining courage. "Why are you using that?"

He knew he could not lie to her. Not when she was looking at him with that deducting look in her eyes. He could never do that to her after he taught her to look at things in that manner. It would be denying the way he was teaching her to look at the world. Besides, it would be better to explain it to her now then when she was older.

"Come here, Cass." He said gesturing to the messy desk.

She walked over with slow careful steps and stopped in front of him. "What are you doing with the needle?"

He sighed. "I...I am doing this because I am bored."

"But what is it, Holmes?"

"It cocaine, a drug." He explained. "Something that is not for little girls. Cassandra, what I did was...it is something I should not be doing"

"But, why do you use it?" Cassandra asked. "I do not understand if it is not good, then why do you use it?"

"It is not easy for me to explain it to you, child."

She stared at him for another moment before her glance moved to his bare arm. He followed her eyes and saw the red dot she was staring at, no doubt she was also looking at the older ones, learning it was from the same thing. She slowly reached her hand out and rested it on the fresher one, the newest.

"Does it hurt?" She asked touching the small bump lightly, before moving her hand back to her side.

He shook his head. "No, it does not." He cleared his throat as he decided to tell her the whole truth about it. "It can however have some negative effects."

"Negative effects?" The child asked looking at him questionably.

"Yes, it can eventually cause harm if I were to continue using it."

"I do not want you to be hurt." She finally said. "I...I am afraid you will be hurt."

"Cassandra, it is more likely to be hurt on a case then to be hurt by this."

"But I do not understand. If it is so bad for you, how can you use it? Why don't you stop?" She asked a very logical question.

He sighed. "It is because when you are given something that makes you feel something certain about it, you become addicted to it."

The child shook her head and folded her arms. "I do not like it, Holmes. It is a very bad habit."

"Yes, it is not a very good one." He admitted.

"But you will still use it, because you are addicted to it. You will not be able to stop using it, not matter what."

Ah, there was the accusation. Sherlock Holmes stared at the little girl as she stayed in her position. She was so very angry with him, but he noticed the small glisten in her eyes. To think he was the reason for her to be in tears of fear shocked the detective to the core. For a child so young to have such undying loyalty not only frightened him, but also touched him.

He opened his ams and allowed her to fold into his embrace. She tucked her head under his chin and tried to hide her tears from him. The child wanted to prove that she was older by not crying when things were not going the way she wanted. He knew she was angry with him by not stopping his habit and nothing would change her feelings for it.

Sherlock Holmes knew he could not change the child's mind once it was made up. She was very determined and stubborn little girl where not even he was able to change her mind, especially when it concerned him. However, he would not discourage it. Out of the mouths of babes, he thought warily, but he would see that her little voice would be heard in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Holmes learns fear, terror, and rage. I only own Cassandra everyone else is Doyle's. Please review!**

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><p>She was nine when his worst fear had happened, when Sherlock Holmes was not able to protect her. There was a man who would do anything to get to him, and he had found the detective's weakness. He had sent her away to keep her safe, to be certain nothing happened to her, but it was useless. The man found her.<p>

He had just returned from a night in the underground and was planning on sleeping for a short time before going out again, when Mrs. Hudson rushed over to him with a telegram in her hand.

"Mister Holmes, I have waiting for you for hours. This came last night and is very urgent-

"Not now, please-

"A man gave this to me and told me that you were to see it and reply back."

"Mrs. Hudson, I have been out for the past two days working nonstop."

"But, Mister Holmes, it is about Cassandra."

He snatched the paper from her. "Sherlock, Cassandra has not been seen since this evening at six." His brother had wrote.

He had never ran faster in his life. He knew he would need help and knew the perfect person to help him. For the second time that week, the Watson household was disturbed by a visiter who slammed the door open. Dr. John Watson was having tea with his wife when his dear friend stormed into the room with a very tired, but panicked look.

"Holmes?" He asked standing up.

"He took her, Watson."

Watson did not need to say another word. He grabbed his coat, kissed his wife, and checked again to see he had his service revolver. When he returned, he found his friend pacing the hall, having refused anything from Mary. He followed his friend out and to the train station.

As they sat in the compartment waiting to arrive at the school Sherlock Holmes smoked and tapped on his knee. To anyone else, he seemed nervous, but to the few who knew him well, he was worried. He never should have let her go away. He should have tried to convince his brother otherwise. Now the child was in a very dangerous man's hands. A man who was desperate and believed he had been wronged by him.

As soon as they arrived, he got to work. The Headmistress said they were returning from Mass, when she noticed she was one girl short. She had gone back and tried calling out, but received no answer. Men from the town looked for the missing girl as well, but all they found was her dark blue cloak caught in the thicket.

He did not waste another moment. They went to the woods and searched around the area of the church. Finding nothing, he asked to be shown where the cloak was found. He used his lens and found two different threads. One from the cloak, the other was from a grey coat.

"Dogs, did they use dogs to try to find her?" He asked quickly.

The woman nodded. "Yes, but they went through the small pond."

For a week they spent trying to find her. Sherlock Holmes knew he was getting close and had heard of someone new who had moved into the small town and had paid the money for a house quickly, not moving anything in. The house was not far from the school.

Peterson was with them as they came to the house. They quickly made their way inside and had spilt off in search of any clues. A few moments later Peterson called out for them. Watson had arrived first and tried to calm the missing child down. When Sherlock Holmes entered the bedroom, his friend looked up from the huddled girl on the bed.

"Be careful of her wrist, Holmes." He said. "It's broken."

He nodded before taking the doctor's place next to her. When the girl noticed the change she curled herself tighter in a ball.

"Cassandra." He spoke the name gently as he placed his hand on her back.

Slowly she lifted her head and looked at him. With a dark purple bruise around her eye, she tried to blink away her tears. "Holmes?"

"Yes, Cass. It's me." She sobbed against him as he held her. "You're safe now." He said softly.

"Don't go away, Holmes."

He buried his face in her hair. He heard Peterson say something in surprise, but he did not care. He did not care if he was showing too much emotion. Nothing else mattered to him at the moment, but the little child curled into his chest. All he wanted was to see Cassandra safe again. The child that kept her uninjured hand around one of his with no intention of letting go.

He knew she was afraid and hurt, the man had hurt her. That monster had hurt **_his_** child, **_his_** little girl. It took all of Sherlock Holmes' control to not leave her and go after the man that gave her the black and purple spots on her body. The one who had broken her wrist and most likely had scarred her for life. He would make certain that the man would never get away with this.

"I'm here, everything is all right now." He told her gently.

"Can we go home?"

"Yes, we will."

She closed her eyes and rested against him as he carried her out of the house. He promised her they would be far from this place and home soon. He then handed her to Watson, telling him he should take her to the inn. He would be there later, hoping to catch the man behind it. Peterson had alerted Lestrade who was at the station and would be there in minutes.

It was an hour after Lestrade arrived, when the man returned. He had tried to escape them, but he had knocked him with his cane. He wanted to do more damage to him, but he knew he could not do it. Once the man was taken into custody, Sherlock Holmes went to the inn and watched over the slumbering child.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: We get to see Watson's thoughts when he first meets Cassandra. This one goes to Sherlockian, who planted the idea in my head. Reviews are as always awesome and if you have any ideas I'm open to them. **

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><p>Doctor John Watson was prepared for many things, he always was. He was prepared when his father died after being sick for so long and his mother who then followed leaving him in the care of an aunt. He was prepared to become a doctor when he was in university. He was prepared when his brother turned to drinking and came to him seeking help with money. He found his escape by joining the army. He was prepared to help the young men fighting, after he was injured he was even prepared for the worst. So it was no surprise to him when he moved in with a man he hardly knew.<p>

However, what John Watson was not prepared for, was learning that his flatmate had hidden a child from him. Never would he have thought that the man he learned to be a great detective, and was in the hopes of that man becoming his greatest friend, would have a child in his care. He could not even imagine the man having a child. So when Sherlock Holmes had asked him for his help and took lead him to his room, he did not expect to find a little girl laying in a cot with a fever. No, he never expected it to be that.

But, once his eyes had laid on the little green eyed child, who was very much feverish, his nature went from a confused man to a doctor in an instant. He checked the girl over, a few times she shrink away to only be urged gently by her guardian to keep still. He asked a few questions about her after he examined her.

"Her parents?" He had asked.

"They didn't want me." The small child had spoken up.

"You know we do not know that for certain." Holmes told her gently.

"It is logical." The little voice said.

Here the doctor paused as he watched the two. He could see the girl was hurt by this, though she tried to hide it by allowing her curly hair to block her face from view. Holmes was not fooled by it either and he reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it gently, causing the child to look at him who received a small smile in return.

"No attempts or claims have been about a missing child." Holmes said.

"And you have been caring for her?" He asked.

"Yes, I have."

"Why did you not tell me of this sooner?"

"I do not want people to know of her. My profession is dangerous, as you know, Watson. If word got out about her…they would not hesitate to harm her."

"But, she has been here the whole time?"

"Yes, Cassandra has stayed in this room; she goes out in the sitting room when Mrs. Hudson cleans."

He slowly nodded his head and watched as the little girl let out a small yawn, "We better let you get some rest."

He had walked out of the room and caught a little of the conversation the two had together, before he moved away. He was sitting in his chair when Holmes returned, closing the door softly behind him.

"It would appear Cassandra likes you." He said.

John Watson smiled. "She seems to be a very charming girl. I wish you had told me sooner about her."

Holmes looked over at him, before moving to the fire mantle and retrieved his pipe. "Your do understand the reason I could not. I was not certain if I could trust you with the secret until recently."

"What if you never were certain?"

"Then we would have left as soon as I was able to afford new accommodations." He admitted.

"Holmes, how did she come into your care exactly? I do not understand why you took her in."

He sat across from me in his chair and leaned back. "I was walking home when I heard a small cry. Around the corner in the alley was a small bundle where I found a young child. It was during a storm so I took her inside and she was sick. The doctor told me she would not live, but she lasted through the night. She has been in my care since that night. I did not want her to leave."

"But what of her parents, Holmes? Surely you found something about them."

Sherlock Holmes sighed. "I have made several attempts to find them in the past few years, but each has been futile. I did however find something, a friend recognized her and I paid her to keep quiet about it."

John Watson looked at him shocked. "And you did not see them?"

He puffed on his pipe. "Oh, I saw them, and she is better off never knowing them. They were not the best of people, Watson. They...the father is an opium addict who spent all of his earnings to the den and the mother preferred tramping through the streets with younger men. Their marriage if anything is not with love nor happiness. If I had sent her back to them I have no doubt a week later there would be a report on the death of a year old baby due to neglect. She was not in the best state when I found her she was lacking in her growth because she was not being cared for properly."

"Does she knew of this?" He asked.

Holmes sighed and shook his head. "No, she knows nothing and I do want her to know. She suspects that they may have abandoned her, and it is for the best that she continues to think that."

"I noticed she sees the world as you do."

With a slight smile, he nodded. "Yes, she observes, quite well for her age. She learns quickly and is very smart little girl."

"Holmes, how many people know of her exactly?" Watson could not help but ask.

"The old landlady knew as does Mrs. Hudson. Two children also know as they are her friends."

"And me."

Holmes nodded his head. "And it goes without saying you must also keep secret about her. I do not wish for anyone with the wrong intentions to know."

"You have my word, Holmes. I will not let anyone else know without asking you first."

A few days later, he was able to learn more about Cassandra. The child was very smart, and she was a sweet little girl who loved to read books and always asked questions. In no time they become friends and he knew that he would do everything as well to keep the child safe. John Watson was now fully prepared to protect Cassandra.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Holmes struggles with logic and his heart. I only own Cassandra. Everyone else belongs to Doyle. I need reviews as a way to tell me if this is worth posting or not. Flames I can do without.**

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><p>Things for the child were not well since she was brought home from the country after she was kidnapped. Once they returned to Baker Street, she had nightmares. It was then Sherlock Holmes realized that he was not even able to chase her dreams away.<p>

She always had to be near him and was becoming underfoot. He could not be out of her sight more then ten minutes, before she would be in search of him. The numerous problems it was causing was beginning to annoy him. He could not work, not with her in the room. He had to meet the clients in their homes, out of his element. He could not allow her to go out as he decided for the time she needed to stay inside again, it was far too dangerous for her to be out and about.

But what frustrated him the most was not being able to help her. He was not able to help the child. He could not make her forget about what happened, he could even get a word from her about her time in that house then from what he had to force her to tell him from that day. Even then she told him in a empty voice of emotion and was very factual, something he never wanted to hear in her sweet voice again.

He would become irritated as he thought what to do, and would snap at her. The poor girl would become frightened like a doe and would seek comfort from Mrs. Hudson, while it would take him a whole day convincing he would not harm her. He realized Cassandra was broken, and nothing he did would ever change it.

It was middle of the night, a few hours after Cassandra had gone to bed. He was working at the chemistry table finishing an experiment he was unable to do earlier as he had a young child attached to him by the hip. Not it mattered much to him, he was only doing it to keep him busy to help him think. The only thing he could think of was sending her away in the morning, to find a family to care for her.

It was something he had considered before, but each time he found that he never could send her away. He would always be convinced nothing would happen, that everything was under his control. However, now he could not ignore it, he could not hide the danger. He finally gave up on his project and sit tiredly in his chair.

He would see that a good family took her in, a family he approved of. He would see her education was the best offered to her. He would see an account made to care for her. He would make certain she was loved and well cared for. Most important, he would see she would be safe, that no harm would come to her again.

A moment later he heard the sound of the door opening and small footsteps walked to him. He laid his hand on top of her head.

"Another dream, little cat?" A nod and he sighed. "Will you tell me what happened?"

He looked down to the little girl waiting for her to answer. Her left arm was wrapped in a sling, but her bruises were nearly gone. Her hair was still slightly damp from her bath earlier and her forehead was sweaty. Her eyes were slightly red from crying and she slowly moved closer to him.

"No." She finally answered. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Cassandra, dreams are only so strong because you let them. Telling me will help you."

"I...can't."

He slowly nodded, expecting that answer. "I see. You should try to go back to sleep."

She started to walk to the door, but stopped. "I was there again." Cassandra admitted.

"What?" He asked.

"My dream." She closed her eyes tightly. "I…He was there too. He was telling me...he said-

"Cass?" He asked softly as he walked closer to her.

"He said you were dead and it was my fault. It was because of me that you were never coming. I was trapped and could not get out. I tried, but it was locked, the door was always locked. I thought of the window, but it was a long drop down. Then the other man came and he...he took me away. Somewhere else, somewhere dark."

She turned her face and buried her head in his side. He stroked her hair lightly. "It's all right. You are safe, he cannot hurt you."

"How do you know, Holmes?" She whispered.

He knelt down and took her good hand in his. "Cass, I can assure you, he cannot hurt you. Peterson arrested him. I promise you, you will never see him again."

"Are you certain?"

He dropped her hand and turned around. He found the newspaper from a week ago and showed her the article on the front page. When she finished reading it she set it on the table and walked back to him.

"Now you see?" He asked. "There is no chance of him escaping. You are safe now, Cass. I promise."

"What of the other man?"

The other man. Cassandra could only give him little information about him. She said Bryson never gave him a name. She could only give a very vague description as the lights where low when she meet him. Through because of slamming the door on his hand, he knew that man would have scaring.

"We have not found anything on him yet. I will always see you that you are safe, even if it means finding a family to care for you."

She looked at him worried. "You won't send me away will you, Holmes?"

"If I must...Now do not look at me like that. You know it is the most logical thing to do."

"But, Holmes if it was about logic, you never would have taken me in the first place."

Sherlock Holmes could only stop and stare at the child. When had she developed this quick wit, he not know. He did know, however there was nothing he could say to that statement. He knew she was right, it was not about logic. It had stopped being logical where that child was concerned the moment she reached out to him.

"Touché, dear little cat." He finally said. "It seems you will be staying here."

She nodded her head. "Yes, Holmes."

"Why don't we see if Mrs. Hudson will have some hot chocolate?"

"But, you never let me have sweets before bed." She said a confused look on her face.

He smiled at her. "I think a small treat is in order. What say you?"

"Oh, yes please, Holmes." Cassandra said taking his hand.

While Sherlock Holmes may never be able to forgive himself for letting harm come to the young girl, he could see that she did. He vowed to always protect this child and allow nothing to happen to her again. He could never leave her, no matter if it was best for them, he was far too attached to let the child go. He knew her nightmares may never go away, but he would be there to help her as she fought them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: I thought of this one last night and had to write it. Reviews as always are welcome while flames are not. I only own Cassandra, everyone else belongs to Doyle.**

She was seven and at the stage where she had to know everything, though she was always at that stage since she could speak. Sherlock Holmes never thought Cassandra wold ask him something that he could not answer. Whenever she did ask a question he was quick to answer it and the young girl would move on to something else. However, this time it would prove to not be the case.

He was smoking his pipe sitting in his chair when he felt a small body lean on the armrest of the chair.

"Yes, Cassandra?" He asked.

"Holmes, where do babies come from?"

He was startled at first to say the least. He nearly dropped his pipe when she asked that question. Of all things, the child had to ask him that? Where had this sudden urge to know something like that come from? He wondered. Why did that child have to be so curious? It would be a safer place to start before he had to think of a way to explain reproduction to a seven year old. He finally decided.

"Where did this come from?" Sherlock Holmes asked.

"Well, Jess and I were walking home with the other boys yesterday. Billy was talking about how his mum is having a baby and everyone was telling him she would fine. I didn't know what to say since I don't know anything."

Ah, yes, Billy did ask him if he would be needed much since he wanted to make certain his mother would be all right. He knew the woman had been with child several other times, but many were still born.

"Perhaps you should ask Mrs. Hudson."

Cassandra frowned. "Why? Can't you tell me?"

"I could, but I think it would be best if you went to Mrs. Hudson. She knows more about it than I do."

"I will later, but first you tell me. You always said that I need all of the facts. I should know from different sources."

He cursed silently. He should at least try to watch what he tells her, then maybe he would stop finding himself in situations like this one. That child listened too much to what he said.

"Are you certain you would rather not go to Mrs. Hudson first?" He tried one last time to persuade her otherwise.

"I'm certain, Holmes." She said with a nod.

Sherlock Holmes sighed. "Well, for a child to be made there must be a man and a woman."

"And is that where they are married?"

"Sometimes, yes. But, at other times no. You see, Cassandra, to have a baby...there are certain things that only a man and a woman can do with each other."

"What things, Holmes?"

No, he would not be getting into that. Never, that child will go on not knowing that answer. Well at least she would not find out from him. For now he needed to think of a way to tell her without telling her exactly what it is.

"Marriage bed." He said quickly. "The process is the marriage bed, Cassandra."

"But, what if they are not married?" She asked.

"It is still called that even if they are not because it is something that only a married couple should be doing."

"So because of the marriage bed, a child is made?" Cassandra asked slowly.

"Yes, not right away mind you. It does take some time since the baby has to grow enough for there to be evidence that it is there." Sherlock Holmes explained. "There are even times when something is wrong and either the man or the woman cannot help in creating the child."

"And that is when they are barren, right?"

"Yes, Cass."

"I think I understand, Holmes." The young girl admitted.

He smiled at her. "I am sure you do."

There was a knock on the door and Jess walked in. "Cassandra, me and the others wanted to know if yew wanted to come out and keep our eyes on Mister Keller. We think he's up to something."

Mister Keller was an elder store owner who had convinced the Irregulars he was up to no good. He was actually one of his agents and only kept the children on their toes, Cassandra knew this of course, but she always went along with it anyway.

"Can I go out, Holmes?" She asked.

"Do not stay out for long. Mrs. Hudson will have dinner ready soon."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir."

He watched as the two little girls scampered out of the sitting room. He stood up and walked over to the window looking out. Cassandra and Jess met the boys outside and then preceded out to Mr. Keller's shop as they ran down the street. Sherlock Holmes knew that Cassandra was growing up, and it seemed to him that it was faster. To him she was still the four year old who always stood on her tip toes and watched him with his chemicals. Now, she was seven and most likely knew more things than any other child, but who still needed to play with her friends.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: After I did a shot of Watson's pov, I realized that our favorite landlady needed one as well. Reviews are welcome. I only own Cassandra while everyone else belongs to Doyle.**

Mrs. Hudson came to expect the unexpected since Mister Sherlock Holmes became her tenant. She learned this the first time he spoke to her of Cassandra. Over the years, she has come to learn more unruly habits of her tenant. The list ranged from playing the violin at three in the morning, to causing small explosions,

Of course, all of this she had forgiven him one night when Cassandra was eight.

It was one of the few times that Mister Holmes had left the young girl in her care while he was away. Usually she stayed with the doctor and his wife, but this time she stayed in Baker Street. It was a little past midnight when she woke and heard movement upstairs. Knowing the young girl had fallen asleep on the settee in the sitting room, she pulled her robe over her nightdress and walked upstairs.

When she opened the sitting room door, she found Mister Holmes sitting on the settee with the young girl sleeping against him. A fire in the fireplace was the only source of light. She noticed the hard thoughtful expression on the man's face staring darkly at the flames. He did not noticed her at first, he only continued to stroke the top of the child's head.

"Mister Holmes?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

The young man looked up at her slowly, but he kept stroking Cassandra's hair. "I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you."

"It is all right. I would have woken to check on Cassandra as it were. Stubborn child wanted to stay awake for your return."

He chuckled softly. "Yes, yes she is."

After another silent moment passed. she was reminded of the late hour. "Goodnight then, Mister Holmes."

"I was called away because a child had gone missing. His father had taken him and was hurting him." He said softly.

She suck in a breath. "The boy, he is safe now?"

"Safe being away from him, yes. He has several injuries and is staying the night in a hospital until he is recovered." He shook his head and looked down to the slumbering child. "I do not believe, Mrs. Hudson that I will ever understand the reason behind harming someone this innocent."

The older woman was not as shocked by this statement as she thought she would be. She knew something was troubling him and the way he kept the sleeping little girl close to him, only proved it. Of course Mrs. Martha Hudson was not Sherlock Holmes, but even she could see the horror the young man had faced that night.

"I doubt we will ever know." She finally said. "But there is always a small comfort."

"Is there?" Sherlock Holmes asked.

"Knowing that the child you love is safe and sound is more comfort then any other words could express. The little boy will be fine. He is back to his mother where he belongs. As for Cassandra...I hope you do not mind my saying so, Mister Holmes, but that child will always be safe with you. You would let nothing happen to her."

He had a small smile. "You're right, I will keep her safe."

"Why don't I make you some tea." She said. "You must be tired."

"Thank you."

When she returned she found the great detective sleeping, his chin resting on top of Cassandra's head. Martha Hudson smiled softly as she picked up an afghan. She silently tucked it round both of her tenants. Sherlock Holmes may be the worst tenant, but he had his moments. His love for the little child never went unnoticed by her and the moments while he even needed some mothering as well.

Now if she could only keep him from shooting bullets in her wall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: Sorry I haven't updated this in a while. I never meant to go this long without updating this. This chapter does have a bit of a spoiler. I only own Cassandra, everyone else belongs to Doyle. Reviews are welcome while flames will be shown to the door.**

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><p>Sherlock Holmes remembered the first time little Cassandra helped him. It was during a thunder storm and he had just gotten her to sleep. He had to play three songs before she finally fell asleep in his lap. He picked her up and tucked her into her blankets, brushing her hair out of her eyes and watching her for a few moments. Then he had gone to sleep not too long after she did.<p>

He was running through the woods in the back of his childhood home. His little sister ran past him laughing.

"You will have to be faster then that, Locky!" She shouted in a playful voice.

He laughed as he chased her. "You wouldn't be ahead if I hadn't jumped over the log."

Eleven year old Charlotte Violet Holmes looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him. They were almost to the the boulders when they saw another figure there waiting. At two and twenty, Mycroft Holmes was already considered for a job in the government. Charlotte and Sherlock Holmes both stopped.

"How could you possibly have gotten here before us?" She asked.

"He took the short cut."

Mycroft Holmes smiled and ruffled his sister's hair. "I still cannot believe you both race here as when we were all young."

She frowned and moved away. "That would be because you never have fun anymore, Croft."

The young man shook his head, but allowed his baby sister to hug him. "She is right, brother mine." The younger Sherlock Holmes said. "You are a very boring person. You do not deduct as you had before and now prefer to sit in an office all day."

"You shall soon learn, Sherlock." His brother said. "University is not too long away."

"Oh will you both stop that talk." Charlotte said frowning at her brothers. "It is holiday. No talk of the government, or university. We should not be fighting."

Mycroft chuckled. "Very well, little sister. We promise not to fight."

"At least not during this holiday."

This response caused Charlotte Holmes to huff, but her brothers only laughed and pulled her in between them.

He was twenty and racing through the woods again. But this time it was in a storm and he could not find his sister. He should not have left his sister with their father. He knew that when he was forced to leave things were not well between them. Now, she had ran off and no one could find her. But, he would. He knew he could, he had to find her.

"Charlotte!" He shouted. "Charlotte, where are you?"

"Locky!" He heard a scream.

He turned around and saw his sister trapped in the overflowing river. Her hands were reaching out for him.

"Lotte, I'm coming!" He shouted.

He ran to her and grabbed her hand. She was pulled away from him with the current. "Help me!" She cried.

Sherlock Holmes dived in after her, trying to reach for her, but never making it. When he had to come up for breath he saw a still figure washed up on the rocks. He raced over to her and scooped her into his arms, holding her to his chest. Her lips were blue and her chest was unmoving.

"No, please. Lotte, Lotte, please wake up. I need you to open your eyes." He whispered into her hair as tears poured from his face.

Suddenly, she was gone and he looked up, meeting her pale face. "You did not save me." She said in a cold voice.

"I tried to save you."

"But you were not fast enough. You are never fast enough." She said with anger.

"Charlotte-

"No!" She screamed. "You did this to me! You killed me!"

"No, Lotte I-

"You are a murderer."

He shot up breathing heavily. He covered his eyes with his hand and took deep breaths, trying to slow his heartbeat. It was a dream, only a dream. He knew his sister would not blame him for what had happened that night, not when he searched for her. No, Lotte was not that thing that yelled at him. Not his sweet baby sister. Not his sweet innocent little sister.

"Holmes?" A soft voice asked.

He looked over and saw the little four year old girl, standing next his bed with a worried look in her eyes. She had her blanket around her shoulders and her white nightgown reminded him too much of the pale skin of his sister from the dream.

"I am sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."

"Are you all right, Holmes?" She asked sitting next to him. "You were moving about and sounded afraid of something."

"I'm fine, Cass." He said. "It's only a bad dream."

"Is it because of the storm?"

He tried to give her a small smile, but failed. "Somewhat. Now go back to sleep little one."

She nodded her head and walked over to her blankets. He sighed and laid back with his eyes closed. He hadn't had a dream about that night in years. He could not think of anything that might of bought this dream back. A moment later he felt the bed sink in. A rough fabric had been tucked around his neck carefully. She had given him her blanket, that thing was hers, she hardly went anywhere without it.

"It's all right, Holmes." Cassandra whispered petting his hair gently. "I won't let the storm hurt you."

The child laid her head on his chest. He buried his face in her still baby soft hair and breathed in the scent of lavender. He could not believe how insightful she was becoming. She had fallen back asleep and he stroked her hair gently. This child was certainly becoming something. He would not allow the same end that happened to Charlotte happen to her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: Taking a small break from editing the next few chapters, a little thought popped in to my head about the chapters coming from Holmes' view. I only own Cassandra, everyone belongs to Doyle. Reviews are amazing while flames are laughed at and then ignored. **

In the years that he had spent caring for Cassandra, Sherlock Holmes realized two things about the child. The first was she was determined. She would not give in to anything, no arguments would ever fully stop her. The second was that she was very stubborn. No matter what the cause was once she had her mind to it, she was unable to be convinced otherwise. There were two of her characteristics that in normal circumstances, he admired the most about her. However, after the said child had risked her life, disobeyed him, and nearly was sucked into a moor, Sherlock Holmes' patience had thinned.

"I know you're upset," the child had started to explain.

"Upset is not how I would put it, Cassandra. Furious, enraged. Why, Cassandra? What I want to know is why you did this."

She bowed her head. "I wanted to help you. I'm tired of being left behind all of the time."

"By doing this?" He asked. His voice raised after each other. "By sneaking away, lying to everyone, disobeying me, forging a note, and stealing-

"Borrowed. I will pay you back for what I took."

"Indeed you will." Sherlock Holmes said. "And once you do, there will be no pocket money for a month."

Cassandra pulled her knees to her chest. "Holmes, I am sorry."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know, Cassandra. I know you are sorry, but it may not even be enough this time. You will be on a very short leash, child."

"Yes, Holmes."

"Don't you ever disobey me when it comes to something like that again, Cassandra. When I tell you to go somewhere for safety, you will do it."

"I only wanted to help, Holmes-

He cut her off before she would say anything else. "That does not matter."

"You mean it does not matter if I help people or not?" She questioned him. She was daring him to say that in some way she was right.

"That is not what I meant, Cassandra and you know that," He replied.

"Holmes…"

"It is too dangerous-

"But you and Watson do it all of the time." Cassandra pointed out.

"We can handle the dangers, we are prepared for them. You are still a child-

"I don't see why I can't come along!" She shouted. "I'm not so little-

"Because I cannot lose you like I almost did tonight."

There, he said it. Sherlock Holmes had admitted that he cared more about the welfare of that child then he did of where Stapleton had ran off to exactly. He wanted-no he needed her to understand the danger she placed herself in. Didn't she understand that the image of Stapleton holding a gun to her, the threat that if he had so much breathed a word that he was behind it, then he would never see her again, terrified him?

He could not lose her, he would not lose that child. He only needed her to understand that she needed to think things through. She could not be this impulsive. He knelt down in front of her.

"Understand what you did was dangerous, Cassandra. That is the type of danger that sometimes happens when I am out. I do not go looking for it and when I know there is a possibility of it, I take Watson with me."

She nodded her head. "Yes, sir." She whispered.

He moved some hair from her face, noting that it would need to get cut soon. "Oh my little curious cat, what am I to do with you?"

Cassandra sighed. "Holmes, was I any help to you at all, or did I only get in the way of things?"

"You pointed out several different conclusions, some of which that I also noticed and deemed important. However, because you are inexperienced still, you did cause a bit of a mess."

"I'm sorry, Holmes."

"I know you are. I want you to promise me that nothing like this will happen again."

"I promise. It won't happen again."

"Good."

Cassandra looked up at him before she brought her arms around him. Sherlock Holmes tightened embraced the child back. After all, he could only stay angry at her for so long. Although a part of him still was upset with her for her actions, he did not care for her any less for them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: I tried to do this from Holmes' point of view, but it wasn't coming out the way I wanted. So I decided that since I hd not written anything from Mycroft now was the time for it. I only own Cassandra, everyone else belongs to Doyle. Reviews are well liked while flames are evil like Moriarty. **

Mycroft Holmes was worried. There was no denying that he was. His brother had sent Cassandra with words that Baker Street had been broken into and it could only mean one thing. Professor Moriarty found out about his disguise, his cover was blown. Mycroft always believed that the mind was a man's greatest weapon, and Moriarty was prove of that. He knew what the man was capable of doing, and he also knew his brother. The destruction of the flat meant that Sherlock had no where safe to go, and the threat included that Cassandra was also discovered.

The child, Sherlock's greatest weakness. She knew the danger of what happened, but she did not fully understand the man himself and the feeling of danger one had in his presence. Though he only met the man in briefing in passing, he could tell that he was one not to quail with. Yet, the girl she wanted to help.

She wanted to find Sherlock as time passed and it was becoming late. He knew how fatal it would be and tried to discourage it. While she did as he told her and sat back down, she still had the determined look in her eye.

As the clock struck ten, Mycroft Holmes was even more worried.

"Time for you to go to bed, Cassandra." He said.

"Not until he comes back." She said stubbornly folding her arms over her chest.

"The guest room is the door on the right down the hall. There is a trunk at the foot of the bed with some clothes."

"Mycroft-

He glared at her and she sighed. "Fine."

"Staying awake until he does return will do nothing. It is for the best that you go to sleep prepared for whatever will happen tomorrow." Mycroft told her.

"What will happen?"

"At this moment, I know as much as you do. Now go off to bed."

He watched as she slowly walked into the room. It was about two in the morning when his brother finally staggered in. Mycroft walked out of his study and into the sitting room. He was silent as Sherlock sat in a chair and ran his hands through his hair in a worried gesture.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"I'm unharmed if that is what you want to know." His younger brother said.

"Sherlock, what happened?"

"He had Patterson killed. He knew he was the one working with me. I tried to help him escape, but Moriarty knew about it. He had men waiting at the docks. I went back to the flat, hoping I could find something that might help to prove he was behind it. I found nothing, Lestrade said he looked at it and got what he needed, so I cleaned it a bit. Someone was following me."

"There was nothing you could do for Patterson, Sherlock. He knew what going against James Moriarty meant. All of us are aware of what it means to go against him."

"He still died, Mycroft." His younger brother said. "He's dead because of me."

While many people may believe his brother was heartless, he wasn't. How could he be when he was this upset over a man's death?

"He died trying to stop a mastermind. He is dead because of the crimes that man was committing." Mycroft said. "You need to think of what you will be telling Inspector Lestrade tomorrow. And keep your notes together, it will make it easier."

"No."

"Do not make it complicated for the man."

"No, you misunderstood. I'm not turning in the information I have on Moriarty."

"Sherlock-

"He is deadly, Mycroft. If I do this...there is not exact way for me to stop him. Cassandra will be danger."

"If you do nothing, there is no exact answer as to whether you will live." He said.

Sherlock did not answer. He only walked down the hall and opened the door to the guest room. Mycroft followed him and watched as the younger man fixed the blankets over the young girl, tucking them around her. Sherlock moved curls from her face and stroked her hair.

"If it means keeping her safe, I will. I failed at doing that with Bryson and when Stapleton almost took her away. I promised nothing like that would happen again." He finally said softly.

"Moriarty may even go after Cassandra, Sherlock." Mycroft whispered. "He will stop at nothing until you have lost as he did."

"Then he would not stop at just her you realize. He will go after Watson and his wife. Mycroft he may even decide to go after you."

"I know that. But, the child is everything to you. Try as you might to never admit it to anyone, she is important to you. He sees it as well. Telling Lestrade will give you some time to not only hide yourself, but to also keep her somewhere safe."

"I will not risk her."

Then don't. You know what you must do."

Mycroft Holmes was still worried when his brother silently stormed out of the room. This time it was for a different reason. He looked down at the still sleeping child and sighed softly. He was now worried for her as well. Then he remembered the determined look the girl had. Perhaps she will make him see what he must do.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: I almost forgot about this then I cleared off my desk and found it. I only own Cassandra, everyone else belongs to Doyle. Reviews are great while flames are hated.**

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><p>Sherlock Holmes was at a cross road with what was ahead of him, and it scared him a bit. On one hand he knew he was doing the right thing, he knew there was no other way to stop Moriarty. On the other, he knew there was little chance of him returning. That alone left an issue, Cassandra. Logically, he should be preparing her more for this. He should talk to her about it, but she did have an idea. The chess game was proof, she knew what she was doing, what he was about to do. However, it was something that she did not want to hear.<p>

That was why he was standing outside her room. She had ran in there upset and he could not let her be alone. He knocked and walked inside. She was lying on the bed, her face pressed in the pillow. He sat down beside her on the bed.

"I'm going with you." Cassandra said, her voice muffled.

"No, you are staying here."

"I won't stay here. Not without you."

Sherlock Holmes placed a comforting hand on her back. "Cassandra, I can not take you with me. It is too dangerous. I am already risking Watson's life by taking him and I will not risk yours. They won't hurt you if you are here and not with me."

"What if they do?" She asked.

He thought of that, he thought of protection for her incase Moriarty had men waiting to hurt her. "I will have Wiggins and the other older boys keep guard over you while we are gone. Mycroft will be here to look after you."

"Holmes, you can not just leave me here." She turned her face and looked at him. "Please, let me go with you."

He shook his head. "I can't let you come, Cassandra."

She grabbed his sleeve. "Don't go." She begged. "Please, Holmes, don't do this."

"I have to go. Everyone will be in danger if I don't, you know that."

"We can hide in one of your bolt holes, Holmes. It will almost be like it was when we lived on Montage Street."

"Cassandra, you know that we can't. That bolt hole would be a death sentience, only with one way in and out. I am followed at every moment. They will discover it and I fear the method they will use to get us to come out to trap us. Besides it is set up for only one person."

"Then we can go to Sussex." She said looking at him with hopeful eyes.

Sherlock Holmes sighed. "Come here, Cassandra." The girl sat up and moved closer to him. "Cassandra-

"We would be safe in Sussex, Holmes. I know we would."

"It would be one of the first places they look, child. It can be traced to me. Moriarty will find out about it and then what? You need to think of the risks."

"And running away is not risking anything or predictable?"

"When have you ever known me to walk out on a case before I see the entire thing through?" He asked.

"Never." Cassandra said softly.

"Never. He knows that it is not my nature to do so."

"Why can't I go with you?"

"You know why. It is too dangerous for you to come with me-

"It can be dangerous if I stay here."

"No, you will be safer here, Cass, I know you will. When Watson and I leave he will follow us. I know he will. You must stay here in London."

During dinner, the child hardly ate. Normally, Sherlock Holmes would scold her for this, but he kept quiet. The inner battle she was fighting to stay strong was enough. Afterwards, he thought playing the violin for her would help, it always had helped her. As he played, Sherlock Holmes looked over his shoulder and saw the girl sitting in her chair, trying to keep tears from her eyes.

That night, when he went to check on her for the night, she begged him to read from King Arthur. He could not remember the last time the child had asked him to read to her from that book. He looked over and saw she was worried, worried he would not read to her.

He smiled. "You have heard this story a thousand times, and no doubt have each line memorized, dear little cat."

Later after he left Cassandra he sat in front of the fire. In the morning Mycroft would fetch Watson as he got ready and...and said goodbye to Cassandra. Goodbye for them was nothing new, but time it may be the last. He knew, she knew, and Mycroft knew he might not return. He could not let Watson know. Unlike Cassandra, Watson would not let him do this, or even worse he may try to save him. That alone terrified him, he would make certain Watson would survive this as Cassandra would.

The sound of soft steps broke him from his thoughts and he saw the child standing before him. Sherlock Holmes said nothing, he only moved in his chair leaving room for her. She sat beside him and curled up. She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes while he stroked her hair gently.

"I don't want you to go." She whispered tears falling down her face.

"No, tears. Tears won't bring me back or make this go away. You must stay strong, Cass."

"I'm not strong."

"You are the strongest person I know." He said pulling tight to him. "Everything will be right again soon. I promise you that."

"How can you promise that?"

"Nothing will stop me from being certain that you will be safe. I will do everything in my power to see that no harm comes to you. It may not be the way you want it, but you will be all right."

"I'm afraid, Holmes."

He rested his chin on the top of her head. "I know."

The next morning he was silently finishing getting ready. She stood off to the side watching him. Once he was finished he turned around.

"You will look after Watson?" She asked.

"Yes. You will look after Mycroft for me? You know how worried he can be."

"Yes, Holmes." Cassandra said.

"Stay out of trouble, and under no circumstances are you to follow me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Holmes."

"Swear that you will not leave and follow us."

"I swear."

"Good girl." Tears poured down her face. He walked to her and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Cass." Sherlock Holmes whispered. "My dear little girl."

She cried and buried her head in his chest. He pulled her closer and let her cry. He wanted to tell her so many things before he left. That she was his child, she would always be his child no matter what happens. He wanted her to know how proud he was of her, that he would continue to be proud of her hard work and determination. He wanted to tell her that taking her in all of those years ago was not a mistake. It would never be a mistake. He wanted her to know that she helped him in so many ways, more then he was able to think of at the moment. He had so many things to tell her, but time had ran out.

"I must go now, child." He said pulling away. "I need to meet Watson."

"Be careful, Holmes."

He nodded and then cupped her face. He pressed his lips to her forehead and kissed it tenderly. "Goodbye, Cassandra." Sherlock Holmes said.

He did not look back he could not look back.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: I might be working on more one shots as they are the only things I really have time for. If you have not read the sequel then do not read this. I only own Cassandra, everyone else belongs to Doyle. Reviews are wonderful...flames are annoying like my roommates.**

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><p>Sherlock Holmes allowed himself to look at the young woman in front of him. She was dressed in a simple black skirt with a white blouse. Chestnut curls were freed from the pins they were in only some moments before. Her green eyes were staring at him in shock and her hands were shaking holding the gun.<p>

She had grown. He knew she would, it has been three years after all. She was not the fifteen year old girl he had left behind that day in Mycroft's rooms, but a young woman.

He could tell she had not slept in days, perhaps longer, and she was far too thin.

"Cassandra, would you mind terribly if you were to refine from aiming that revolver at me as I do not doubt your accurate range. I would very much prefer for my head to be intact with the rest of my body." He told her.

She dropped the gun and backed away from him. "This is not real. It is impossible."

"Time and tine again I must tell you this, child. You know that once you have eliminated the impossible, no matter how improbable it may seem, it must be the absolute truth." Sherlock Holmes said.

"No, it's a dream."

"No, it is not a dream." He told her gently.

"You cannot be here. You are dead." Cassandra told him.

"Cass, I'm not dead."

She shook her head again. "I have gone mad. This is some twisted illusion my mind has made."

It took him some time to reassure her that he was real and that she was perfectly fine. He was able to even get her to hep him wake Watson. As he told them both the reasoning behind his faked death, he noticed that Cassandra's face was becoming dark with rage. Now that she had her head clear enough to think, her emotions were on a warpath.

And he had expected her to be angry. He expected her to scream at him, to cry over what he did, but he never thought he would see this. Whenever he thought about the day he was finally able to return he could come up with different outcomes. He never thought of the bitting words she would say, the way she swore at him, and the distance she placed keeping as far away from him as she was able.

After she had shouted that he it would have been better if he had continued to let them believe that he was dead, he was helpless watching her leave. Sherlock Holmes did not try to stop her from leaving as Watson did. After watching her, he knew that it would not have worked anyway,

"She only needs some time." Watson said coming into the study.

"Time for what? To forgive me, or for her anger to cool down? Neither of which will be soon."

The doctor sighed. "She has been through many difficult things over the past three years, Holmes. This has not been easy on her."

"I am aware of that."

Watson shook his head. "Holmes, understand that as your friend I am happy to see you alive again. However I am also angry that you were able to leave that girl alone."

"She was never alone. She had Mycroft, you and your wife. She was never alone."

"No, Holmes. She was alone. She needed you and you were not there. I understand why you did this. What I do not understand, is why you did not at least tell Cassandra. We were losing her, Holmes. She was wasting away before our eyes."

"I thought she would be fine."

"She wasn't, she wasn't alright for a long time."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Author's note: Taking a break from studying for finals, I wrote this. It goes back to "The Adventures of the Hidden Child." I may write another oneshot on Wednesday to prepare me for writing for my English exam, but I'm not sure. Anyway, I only own Cassandra, everyone else belongs to Sir Doyle. Reviews are amazing as always, while flames will be used to make some tea. **_

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><p>Doctor Watson learned that one could not deny the deep understanding Cassandra had for her guardian. One such example had been the summer when she was seven. It was the afternoon when they had returned from helping Miss Stoner. Though Holmes has said the death of Doctor Royett did not bother him, Doctor Watson could see it did.<p>

Cassandra was in the courtyard playing a game with her friend Jess. Holmes was standing in the doorway silently watching them. A tiny smile touched his lips, but it did nothing to take away the darkness in his eyes. Cassandra had glanced over and noticed him. She said something to Jess who nodded and gathered up their game. After waving goodbye to her friend, the child walked over to Holmes.

"Is the case finished?"

Holmes nodded his head. "It is."

Watson prepared for the young girl to question the case further. However, it never came. "Does this mean we can go to Sussex?"

"Sussex?" He asked.

"It's summer, Holmes. We always go." The child explained. "You finished a case and haven't another one. Remember, we spend at least two weeks there."

"I suppose we can leave in two days."

The child's smile brightened. "It will be good to see Martha and Thomas again." Cassandra hugged his waist. "You better write to them. Martha was angry the last time you didn't."

Later that night, Holmes was still brooding when Cassandra walked to him with a book. "It is nearly time for you to be in bed." Holmes said.

"Will you read to me first?"

"You are far too old to be read to."

The girl was not about to give up. "Please, Holmes?" She asked.

He sighed, but did not protest as the child settled down beside him in his chair. He took the book from her hands. "Where did you last leave off?"

"Right before Arthur saves Merlin."

Holmes read the story to the young girl. Soon she had fallen asleep, but he stayed still. He stopped reading and looked down at the slumbering child. She had her head resting under his chin and her hand was holding onto his shirt. After another moment of staring down at her, he slowly smiled.

Doctor Watson knew Cassandra had bought Holmes out of his dark mood. She understand what she needed to do in order to cheer him. He knew that while, the child knew many things, she knew her guardian the best.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: Hey everyone, I know I am behind in the Hidden Casebook, but I have gotten caught in writing up coming chapters and I haven't had time to edit the next part. So I am uploading a few sections here until then. As ****before the little one shots are in no special order and reading the series is a big help. This takes place back in The Hidden Child. As always, I only own Cassandra. Everyone else belongs to Doyle. Please review, but no flames.**

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><p>It was the first time Cassandra Brennan had been left in Mycroft Holmes' care. His brother had arrived with the child in the late evening unexpected.<p>

"Sherlock, what on earth is this about?" He had asked.

"A case came to my attention and I need to leave for Essex tonight. Watson and his wife are away. I need you to look after Cassandra."

"I hardly need to be looked after." The young girl protested. "Mrs. Hudson can look after me as she always does."

"We have talked about this. Now go unpack your things."

She left the room and Sherlock turned to him. "I know this is inconvenient, but the matter is urgent."

Mycroft sighed, but waved away the apology. "A fair warning in the future, Sherlock."

His brother nodded his head. "I trust you to look after her. She knows she must stay inside and I gave her enough work to keep her busy."

"You know I will keep my eye on her. You have my word." Mycroft promised.

"I have spoken to her on where she is to go if something were to happen. She knows what she is to do."

"I understand, however it will not happen, Sherlock. My agents have not reported anything amiss on Baker Street."

"But she was not taken from Baker Street was she?" Sherlock bitterly asked.

"You did what was right by placing her in a school in disguise. The child would have been unattended if she were left at the flat and could have been trapped there." Mycroft replied, knowing the subject was still sore to his brother and it would be better to let it drop.

"But she would have been better protected here."

On the other hand, the stubborn fool needed to be pointed out the oblivious every now and then. "By who, Sherlock? You would have been chasing this man down. Even doctor Watson would have been unable as he also has his practice and his wife. I unfortunately had been in a meeting with France. You must not start blaming yourself now."

Sherlock nodded his head firmly and gathered his bag. He stopped when the door and . "Cassandra still has nightmares. I doubt she will be open about it, but if she came to you..."

"I will do what I can."

The girl returned and Mycroft silently watched as his brother knelt down in front of her. He gently and with great care rested his hands upon her shoulders as he told her his last instructions.

"Finish all of the work I gave you. Including your Italian. Your spelling needs some improvement. And stop peeling the bandages at your wrist."

Cassandra frowned. "I can't help it. It itches and I want to see what it looks like."

"I told you before, you can't see the bone only the bruised skin." Sherlock reminded her.

"But that makes it interesting. The bruising should be gone by now. Why is is still there? And how does the bone repair its self?" The young girl questioned.

Mycroft watched as his brother shook his head with a small smile of a amusement. "You can ask Watson when he returns, but do not bother your wrist. And behave for Mycroft."

The child nodded her head, through she was a bit put out after the light scolding. "I will."

"I will be back in a few days."

"Less than a week?" Cassandra questioned.

"Are you doubting my capabilities? I will return I in five days. If I were to be later than that, I shall send a message."

The young girl nodded her head accepting the answer before embracing his brother. Sherlock returned it beliefly before pulling away. He stood up and with a nod to his brother left. However, it did nothing to wave away the uneasiness Mycroft Holmes felt as Cassandra Brennan was now in his care.

He had to clear his plans for the next few days, as he thought it would not do to leave the child alone all day. There was two meetings he could not miss but Cassandra assured him she would be all right for an hour or two alone.

His brother had left no further instructions. He had to learn on his own the girl hated turnips and asked too many questions. The books he had would have her frowning over them, rather it be the content or being difficult he never know, but they kept her busy. Cassandra did have nightmares as his brother warned, but she did her best to hide it. Mycroft never asked.

At the moment Mycroft was working on some paper work with Cassandra sitting across from him as she worked on her lessons. At a glance at the work, hr had raised his brow at the complex equations. However, Cassandra had a look of deep concertation and realized it was best to leave the child alone.

They worked in silence for sometime. Mycroft Holmes was caught up in his work and did not notice when the young girl had set down her pencil and was staring out the window. When he finally looked up from his work, he saw the way Cassandra was frowning and the worry line across her brow.

He coughed lightly. "Have you some trouble in your lessons?" He asked.

She jumped in surprise and then shook her head. "No, not too much."

"Then you are worried about what?"

The young girl sighed and looked out the window again. "Mycroft, if I ask you something will you promise to be truthful?"

"I will be as truthful as I am able, child." He answered.

"Do you think I am a nutter?" Cassandra asked softly.

Mycroft Holmes raised his brow. "A what?"

"Nutter."

"Where on earth did you learn such a distasteful word?"

"I-

"On the other hand, I do not wish to know. Now ask me the question again, but in proper English." The older Holmes demanded.

The child stared at for a moment. He knew his brother would have answered without hesitation, but Mycroft wanted the child to have some sort of proper British manner in her.

"Do you think I am mad?" Cassandra finally asked.

"My dear, you currently reside with my brother. Any sane man would turn the other way at the sight of his unruly habbits. I congratulate you for lasting as long as you have." Mycroft said.

"No, you misunderstood" She sighed as if she was the one who needed the patience . "I know things no one else knows at my age. I am taught differently."

"Yes, I am very much aware you are taught differently than others in the normal setting."

"But does that mean I am odd? Does it mean I cannot...coexist with others?"

Now having his full attention, Mycroft was surprised by the child's wording. "Whatever gave you that notion?"

"Because Fraud said-

Mycroft waved his hand banishing her thought away. "I did not ask for Sigmund Freud's thought on the manner. If I wanted it than I would have read his useless dribble." Mycroft wondered if he should not keep a better eye on whet the child read. "What had I asked for was your own opinion on the matter at hand."

"When I was Jane Morgan I tried very hard to be the way I thought she should be. I did the things the others did as best as I could. But I know things they don't. I slipped a little and they noticed. Only one girl would talk to me in the end. They thought I was odd and did not like it."

Mycroft did not need to ask who Jane Morgan was. He knew what had befallen the child a month before. Dispute the horrible events, the young girl was returning to the normalcy she was accustomed with. It was also the reason why his brother had left her in his care over the care of the fearless landlady."

"And do you think you are odd?" He asked.

Cassandra shrugged and rubbed at her healing wrist. "I don't know. I know I am different. I am able to notice things others do not. I can often remember things I read only once. Holmes tells me I am different than others all the time, but he means it in a good way. At least I think he does."

He looked back to the tender way his brother had spoken to her before he left. Even if he scolded her a little, it was only half hearted. "I believe my brother meant it as such."

"What do you think?" She asked.

What did he think? Mycroft leaned back in his chair. He had to admit when his brother first told him of Cassandra Brennan, he thought Sherlock had gone too far. He understood her father was a dear old friend of his, but to take in that friend's child? He did not understand the reasoning behind his action of taking in the young girl. It was not until the first meeting of the child where he was able .

Cassandra Brennan was brilliant. Not only was her mind great, but there was something about her that could see everything. She was able to remember what she read, she could solve a mathematical problem in minutes, and she could tell a persons intentions from a single glance.

Yet she had a loyalty so fierce to those whom she considered friends. She had emotions, yes, but Mycroft found it only added more to the girl. He knew that all od this would only shape the girl into a very sharp and intelligential young woman she was to become. He pitied those who went against her.

"I think, I think you a very smart young girl. I fins it difficult to see you as any other way. However, know this, if that ever does change you must only say the word. Sherlock and I will see you secede in anything you do."

"I don't want to be any different." Cassandra admitted.

"I am glad to hear it."

This seemed to please her as she turned back to her work. Later just as he was to retire for the night, the child appeared in the doorway. She was shaking and nearly in tears. Mycroft simply motioned her over and the child ran to him. He listened as she told him of the horrors of the room she had been kept in. Mycroft decided to see what his agents could learn about a white haired lawyer.


End file.
